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Tuesday, July 14, 2009

Casualties of War

Okay, so it wasn't really a war, just our Robbins family reunion but there were casualties still the same. I will give them to you in order of the fall.

1. One of our camp chairs gave up the ghost at the Friday night hot dog roast. Apparently it just couldn't handle the heat.

2. My blue shirt that I really really love, well.... one of the activities was t-shirt painting. I had no intention of painting a shirt but apparently I didn't need to. My cute niece Nessa showed me hers that she was ever so proud of and in the process globbed silver paint on my sleeve.

3. My nephew, Wes, is just over 1 and walking around like a champ. He is in a grabby stage and was in the general t-shirt painting area. His favorite past time was finding things and dropping them into the bucket of water used to rinse out the sponges for said painting. Well, my sister heard a kerplunk, thought it sounded a bit bigger than a sponge and took a look. What did she fish out of the dirty paint water you ask? My camera! Now you know why I have no pictures of the deceased.

All in all it was a fun time though. It is an excuse to upgrade our camera though we hadn't planned on doing it quite so soon... Not so sure where we're going to get the money to do that, but...

Positive highlight: So, I assigned my little brother to covertly start a water fight for the reunion (it's nice to be in charge). I ended up with a few cups poured over my clothes, splashed in my face, etc. Well, David was feeling pretty good about himself because he had successfully avoided the water fight. I thought about remedying the situation, but decided against it as I didn't think he had a change of clothes and we were leaving soon. Well the little braggart told me he did but he just didn't want to get wet. Famous last words. I made an excuse to get all the electronics off of him and told Alex to "get the job done". One large bucket later and David was just as wet as me! Ain't that love!

Private Blogs

"The calendar advanced, and there was no baby. The English language lacks the words 'to mourn an absence.' For the loss of a parent, grandparent, spouse, child, or friend we have all manner of words and praises, some helpful, some not. Still, we are conditioned to say something, even if it is only 'I am sorry for your loss.' But for the absence, for someone who was never there at all, we are wordless to capture that particular emptiness. For those who deeply want children and are denied them, those missing babies hover like silent, ephemeral shadows over their lives. Who can describe the feel of a tiny hand that is never held?" - Laura Bush